


First Partner

by sljae



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: AU, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:37:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sljae/pseuds/sljae
Summary: She is the National Ballet's ballet's brightest star. He has finally won an Olympic gold medal. Today they dance with different people. But eighteen years ago, they once were the other's first partner.ORWhat if Tessa had chosen ballet?





	1. Tessa - All I really wanted was to congratulate him

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Obligatory statement about RPF. Never expected to be here. Never expected to write RPF. But then two Canadians from the other side have upended my world and seem to have changed my thoughts about everything.
> 
> 2\. I'm supposed to be writing an update for my other story - my first attempt at fanfiction. But this story wouldn't get out of my head so despite the fact that I've just realized how hard it is to write stories, here we are with a brand new one.
> 
> 3\. Scott's career basically follows the same trajectory as his and Tessa's in the real world, albeit with a different partner. - Edited to add: I'm changing some details re: Scott's career because it can't be the same and shouldn't be the same if Tessa wasn't his partner.
> 
> 4\. I don't have a beta so sorry for mistakes and grammar issues. I try my best but English isn't my first language. Also, I'm still figuring out the formatting. Apologies in advance for any weird formatting issues.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa convinces herself that she's only congratulating him because it's her patriotic duty.

_The scores please. Kaitlyn Weaver and Scott Moir have earned in the free dance 122.40 points their season’s best. With a total score of 206.07, they are currently in first place._

 

“Yes!”, I scream, jumping up and down my immaculately decorated living room. I accidentally knock over a couple of books off the coffee table in the process but for once, I don't care about the mess. 

 

“Did I miss it?”, my sister Jordan asks, as she rushes back into the room bringing our refills of red wine from the kitchen.

 

“They won!”, I answer back.

 

“Yay!”, she says. She looks at me jumping around like I've gone crazy. But I guess my enthusiasm was contagious enough that after briefly hesitating, she puts down the glasses on the table and joins me in jumping around.

 

Ten seconds later, all of our energy having been spent jumping around and celebrating like fools, we plop back down onto my couch as we wait for the flower ceremony.

 

“That was really amazing. I mean, they actually did it. They defied all expectations. They killed that free dance! Nobody should ever use the music from Moulin Rouge in figure skating ever again. They’ve ruined it for the rest of all the teams.”, I say forcefully as I reflect on the fact that everyone and their mother were so sure that the French pair would take home the gold and basking in the victory they earned. The French may have netted themselves a new world record for the free dance, but Scott and Kaitlyn went out after them and skated so beautifully that there could be no other possible result.

 

“Since when have you become an ice dance expert?”, Jordan says, laughing at how intense I had apparently gotten. “It seems like you’ve had nothing in your mind but ice dance since January”, she continues as she peers at me above her wine glass.

 

I stay quiet, willing my face to relax and not give anything away. Because the truth is, she is right. But I'm not about to admit it to her.

 

“I don’t think so. I mean I did do ice dance as a kid so I’ve retained some of it. Nothing wrong with being enthusiastic about a sport I was really into once upon a time.”

 

She raises her brow at my answer. "Oh no need to be so defensive, baby sis. All I'm saying is that there's got to be some reason why on the rare occasion that work has brought me to your city, you make me stay in with you on the one free night I have so we could watch you former partner finally ice dance his way to an Olympic gold medal."

 

She continues to look at me closely as she sips her red wine. In the background, the Olympic coverage has given way to some advertisements as they set up for the flower ceremony. An awkward silence follows as I refuse to reply to her statement.

 

“Scott’s gotten really cute.”, she suddenly says. That's my sister - where there's a pot to be stirred, she'll be the one holding the wooden spoon.

 

I pause for a quick second, enough for Jordan to notice I’m sure, before I reply, “Yeah, I guess so. I don’t really remember him from before.”

 

“You are such a liar!”, she says, as she chucks a throw pillow at me. “You so do remember him. Also, you can deny it all you want but I was watching you watching him. And I know you think he's hot."

 

I was about to issue a denial when she continues, "I also saw that you started following all his social media even though he basically has nothing on there. Add that to this sudden obsession with ice dance for the past month, I can only conclude that my little sis has a crush on her childhood sweetheart.", she says laughing at my dumbfounded expression.

 

“Wait. What. No. I’m just really proud of the Canadian Olympic team. They’re amazing this year.” I stammer out my denial. But Jordan knows me more than any other person in the world. So I know that she sees right through me.

 

I’m saved from her further scrutiny by the start of the flower ceremony. Scott and Kaitlyn are introduced and they climb atop the podium, Scott holding on to Kaitlyn’s hand as she tries to wipe away the tears from her eyes. He smiles gently at her and I feel a twinge in my heart.

 

“Ever wonder what would have happened if you chose skating instead of ballet?”, Jordan says, nailing my train of thought that very moment.

 

This time, I decide to be honest with her. “Truthfully, yeah. Sometimes. Maybe more so when the Olympics started. But I think that happens every Olympics anyway. I remember thinking it in 2010 when Scott and Kaitlyn won a bronze. I remember thinking it in 2014 when they got silver. What if I had pursued ice dance? What if I didn’t accept the position at the ballet academy? What would it feel like to be an Olympic medalist? But I was nine. I couldn't have imagined that Scott would ever reach this level. And maybe if I'd stayed, I would've not been as good as him and he wouldn't get his medals. And I love ballet.  I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I can’t imagine my life if I had done it the other way around.”

 

Jordan nods at my answer. She knows that what I'm saying is true.

 

The flowers are given out, the pictures of all the winning teams are taken, and then there they were - Kaitlyn and Scott skating around the rink with the Canadian flag billowing behind them as they take a lap around the rink. They wind down and stop at one point. Scott takes the flag and wraps it around him and Kaitlyn as the photographers take photo after photo of them. I look at Kaitlyn and Scott’s smiling faces. Again, that little twinge in my heart starts.

 

Maybe I do think about it more than I care to admit. Maybe part of me does imagine that I was the one in figure skates performing those amazing programs. Maybe a part of me does dream about what it would feel like to be the one being lifted by Scott, or wrapped in his embrace. I dismiss the thought immediately as Olympic fever – that and this pesky crush on Scott.

 

I justify it in my head again as a normal Olympic year reaction. Everyone fantasizes about representing their country in an Olympics and be the person on the podium as the flag is raised and the national anthem plays for all the world to see and hear. _Liar,_ a voice inside my head tells me. Much as try to deny it, I can’t honestly say that it has nothing to do at all with maybe wishing for a shot at being the partner of Scott Moir.

 

“They make a cute couple, don’t you think?”, Jordan says, looking at me speculatively. I look at her and raise my eyebrow. 

 

“What’s with these questions, Jordan?”

 

“What? I’m just saying they look cute together and they’ve been what, skating together for 18 years? Like didn’t she become his partner right after you left for ballet school? That kind of history has to account for something.”

 

“They deny they’re in a romantic relationship.”, I say automatically.

 

“Ooohhh, someone’s been snooping around.”, she laughs.

 

“It’s like all anyone talks about these days. Anytime they’re on tv, there’s always a reference to whether or not they’re a couple. I absolutely had to undertake no extra effort to find that out.”, I reply, denying even to myself that I did take the extra effort to find the best sources possible to confirm what’s the real status of their relationship. I internally cringe at the four whole hours I spent scouring newspaper articles and interviews dissecting their relationship on and off the ice. I even encountered a scary part of the web talking about conspiracy theories about them being married and having secret kids.

 

“Okay, fine, I’ll stop teasing you.”, she finally relents after I pin her with a stern look. She looks at her watch and tells me, “I have to go anyway. It’s close to midnight and I have to get back to the hotel.”

 

“I don’t know why you just don’t stay with me. I have plenty of room.” I reply. I watch her fiddle with her phone as she messages the cab company for a pick up.

 

“The convention starts tomorrow and I have to be there by six to ensure that everything’s ready. In fact, I might even go to the conference hall first just to double check that my staff has done the set up correctly before I go up to my room.”, she replies.

 

“Okay.”, I say as I hug her. “I can’t begrudge your company of your full attention. I’m just happy that you have this event so you could come visit me even for a short while courtesy of them.”

 

“Love you, sis.”, she says kissing my head. “Don’t come down. The cab’s just around the corner. It should get here by the time I get downstairs.”

 

She turns around as she puts on her coat. But before I could close the door behind her, she suddenly peeps back at me and says, “Hey, just a thought. You were his first ice dance partner. This is likely his last competition ever. You should congratulate him. Ok, bye.” She’s down the stairs before I could formulate a reply.

 

 _Congratulate how?_   I haven’t seen or talked to Scott since that day at the Ilderton Skating Club when I told him I’m accepting the position they’re offering me at the National Ballet Academy.

 

I remember that he’d been so supportive of me even though I could see in his eyes the disappointment and sadness over me essentially breaking up our team. He told me he was really happy for me. I cried as I hugged him and told him I was so sorry. And I was really sorry. I loved spending time with Scott. Skating with him was so much fun and we were so good together. But my love for ballet won me over. So I gave up our partnership and I left my very first dance partner.

 

I look around at the mess I've made in my living room due to my excessive celebration of their win. I clean up as best I could, putting the pillows back in their place and rearranging my coffee table books. I retire to my bedroom after I’ve returned the living area to its immaculate state, still humming the theme from Moulin Rouge. I do my evening routine all the while replaying that free dance in my head. Sleep finds me easily. That night, I dream that it was me dancing with Scott in Pyeongchang.

 

                                                                       

* * *

 

 

My alarm goes off and I reluctantly wake up from the most amazing dream. Instead of Kaitlyn Weaver, I was Scott’s partner and we win the gold medal together. I sit up and wonder at how real the dream felt. My fingers still tingle like they were held by someone. My hip can feels warm as if someone's hand had been there. I know it’s just a dream but it's like my mind has somehow convinced me that what I woke up from wasn't a dream but a memory. Like in some distant far away alternate dimension, I was in fact Scott's dance partner. Even the emotions feel true. Right down to the laugh/cry thing I do when I’m so overwhelmingly happy when we stand on the podium waiting to be handed our flowers and stuffed toys. I smile at the vision of me wearing that red dress with his hand wrapped around mine as he looks down at me. I feel a thrill at the wisp of a memory where he snakes his hand around my back and rests his hand on my hip. _It was a dream, Tessa._  But damn did it feel so real.

 

I pick up my phone from my nightstand to check if any messages had come in during the night. I see nothing important so I decide to check my social media accounts.

 

As I scroll down through my Instagram feed, I suddenly stop at a black and white photo uploaded by one Scott Moir.

 

_scottmoir14_

_We did it K! #olympicchampions #pyeongchang2018 #weavermoir_

 

It’s a black and white photo of the moment that they find out they won. Right after the score was announced, he jumped up and let out a primal scream. He immediately turned to his side to pick Kaitlyn up. They then shared a hug so tight I thought he was going to bruise her beautiful back. In the photo, he’s turned his back to the camera so the angle only shows her face. But it also shows the side of his torso covered only in mesh, exposing his lean physique. _Yum,_ I think, laughing at my own thoughts. _Get a hold of yourself Tessa._

 

I remember Jordan’s words from the night before. _Maybe I should congratulate him_. I was his first ice dance partner after all. Even if we haven’t seen each other for eighteen years, it wouldn’t be so out of the ordinary. I’m Canadian. He’s representing Canada. Therefore, he’s representing me. I’m just as proud of him as the rest of the country is. And it’s understandable why I would congratulate him out of the blue now. We both had no social media accounts before the 2014 Olympics. I know, I checked when we made his account. So, I couldn’t have possibly reached out to him then. Doing so now is the normal thing to do. In fact, it’s the right thing to do. It’s like my civic duty. And I am nothing if not a patriot.

 

I mean, I don’t even know if he remembers me. We were both so young when we skated together. And I was so quiet and shy then. I barely talked to anyone – even Scott. Granted, for a hot moment between the ages of 8 and 10, we somehow got it into our heads that we were boyfriend and girlfriend. That lasted for a couple of months until out of the blue he calls me on the phone and gives me my first heartbreak. Still, it was so long ago when we stopped skating together that it’s entirely possible that he may not even remember me at all. After all, I’ve been following him on all his social media accounts for a couple of months now and he’s never followed me back on any of them.

 

I was about to open the window to send a direct message to him when the thought hits me that just in case he actually does see my message, and that he does remember me, I didn’t want him to think I’m sliding into his DMs, like probably thousands of girls are doing right now. That just feels like I’m trying too much. Like I have an agenda. Like I want something from him. I may be a minor celebrity compared to him, but I do know what it’s like to have a larger than normal following on social media. _It has to be just a comment,_ I decide. I resign myself to the thought that he probably would never see my greeting as his post has been flooded with congratulations and well wishes from fans. _But at least you made the effort to congratulate him,_ I tell myself.

 

I hit the like button first and then I start to compose a comment.

 

            _tessavirtue17_

_You and @kaitlynweaver were so amazing last night. Congratulations! What great champions for Canada you both are. (Canadian flag emoji)_

 

Ten minutes later, finally satisfied with what seemed like my 100th draft just for a damn Instagram comment, I finally hit send. I can’t believe I spent a full fifteen minutes just trying to comment on someone’s Instagram photo.

 

Laughing at the siliness of the situation, I finally get up from bed to prepare for my day. As one of the National Ballet’s principals, I have to attend a press conference announcing the performances for the rest of the season as well as some collaborations the National Ballet was making with other regional ballet companies around Canada. I then have classes in the afternoon before I have to attend a gala later tonight to raise funds for the company.

 

I step outside of my building into the cold Toronto weather bundled up in my parka. I live near enough to the theatre that I could just walk despite the freezing temperature. Despite the cold however, it seems like everyone I encounter is in a great mood today. Everybody on the street is talking about the amazing win of Kaitlyn and Scott from last night. Not that it's a shock, Canadians are crazy about figure skating. At the press conference, even the members of the media asked us questions about their performance coming from the view of professional dancers. While in the dressing room preparing for ballet class, most of the company were still talking about the ice dance event, how great Kaitlyn and Scott were, and how they completely deserved their victory over the French.

 

The day passes by quickly as it usually does for me when I’m busy. By the time I’m done with my ballet class at 4 pm, I realize I’m starving. I go to my favorite café and get myself a chocolate donut and an Americano. The class had been grueling and I feel that a treat is warranted. I cut the donut in half though, determined not to blow all my cheat points on a single meal.

 

I take a seat near the window of the café looking out onto the street. I take a small bite of my donut and wash it down with coffee. I take my phone out of my bag - my first time to check my messages since this morning. I scroll through my notifications when suddenly, a name pops out at me.

 

            _scottmoir14 sent you a message._

 

My heart suddenly thuds in my chest. And I won’t deny that I felt a thrill going down my spine.  _Holy shit._ He messaged me.

 

I had stopped following figure skating since my teen years. After my favorite ice dance partners, Marie France Dubreil and Patrice Lauzon retired from competition, I no longer followed any of the competitions. I knew that Scott had risen up the ranks and had become national champions with the girl who replaced me as his partner. I would occasionally hear his name mentioned on newscasts and sports shows.

 

It was also impossible to escape the full on media coverage when the Olympics came to Vancouver. So I know that he had won his first Olympic medal, a bronze, then. I actually watched their free dance at Vancouver on tv and felt pride for my former partner and childhood friend. But the truth is, apart from these rare updates about his life, I didn’t really pay that much attention to Scott as I was busy with my own life. In 2010, I was in the running to break through as a soloist at the National Ballet. My every waking hour that year seemed to be me just training, attending classes, strengthening. By the end of that year, 2010, I had become first soloist. I briefly battled injuries in 2011. But I came back roaring. In the fall of 2014, I finally got my promotion as principal dancer, one of the youngest ever to become one at the National Ballet. This was the same year that Scott and Kaitlyn got their silver medals at Sochi.

 

It doesn’t escape me that our major career developments seemed to coincide. Not that I realized it when it was all happening. I only noticed this when I had started this weird obsession with his career this past month. Scott really didn’t come back into my radar until a rare January weekend where I had nothing going on. I accidentally caught the Canadian Tire National Figure Skating Championships on tv. The short dance for the ice dance even was being broadcast. I saw Kaitlyn and Scott perform their Latin routine and was all of sudden enamored again with the sport that I had walked away from at age nine. After their performance, I couldn’t move for a full minute just thinking about how great they looked and how amazing their performance was.

 

The next day, I sat in front of my tv eagerly awaiting the free dance. It probably didn’t help that the moment I saw Scott’s face right before they did their free dance at the nationals, my brain seemed to short circuit. _Since when did Scott Moir have such chiseled jaws?_ And dang it, that Moulin Rouge routine was hot. When Kaitlyn basically did a backflip onto his face, I felt myself flush.  I watch Scott closely and marvel at his edges and the grace by which he moved around the ice. He’s perfect. Yikes. I can’t help it, I have a weakness for chiseled jaws.

 

I’m jolted from my thoughts by a ping from my phone. _This means he remembers me, right? Even though we’ve lost touch, he still remembers me._ I take a deep breath and open my Instagram app. I tap on the messages button up top and open his message to me.

 

_scottmoir14_

_Tutu, is this you? What?!?! I can’t believe it’s you!! Thanks, eh. Wow, my mind is still blown that this is you. It is you though, right? This isn’t some random person pretending to be you? I’ve missed you._

 

A smile breaks out from my face when I see his pet name for me from our childhood. But then I get to the end of his message and stare at my phone in shock. He’s missed me? What does that even mean?


	2. Scott - All I Wanted Was to Know If It Was Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott pretends that he's only messaging her for friendly reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. So I'm changing some details regarding Scott's career. Based on the comments, I agree it is hard to imagine Scott with a different partner. With the realization in mind, I can't leave this story with his career in the same trajectory as in real life. So I'm downgrading the Olympic gold in 2010 to a bronze. Most stay the same still because come on, he's Scott. He's great. And Kaitlyn's great too. Also, this is AU.
> 
> 2\. I don't know much about ballet so forgive me if there's some mistakes.
> 
> 3\. I'm mixing in some Weaver/Poje because I like them.
> 
> 4\. I don't have a beta so please forgive mistakes in grammar and formatting. Thanks!

 “Fuuuuccckkk!”, I moan, desperately hitting the home button on my phone.

 

 “What the hell, Scott? Language.”, pipes Kaitlyn from beside me.

 

 _Why am I so technologically challenged? How the heck do I delete that message?_ I frantically tap on the screen trying to undo what I just did but all I succeed in doing is accidentally drop my phone on the floor.

 

Kaitlyn quickly stoops and picks up my phone. She immediately enters my passcode. I try to wrestle the phone away from her, before she sees what I had been doing. But I guess our years of partnership has made her so attuned to me that she goes right into my Instagram app’s messages.

 

She taps on the first name on top which brings up the offending message.

 

_Tutu, is this you? What?!?! I can’t believe it’s you!! Thanks, eh. Wow, my mind is still blown that this is you. It is you though, right? This isn’t some random person pretending to be you? I’ve missed you._

 

Her eyes grow wider as she gets to the end of the message. She looks at me, pinning me with that intense stare of hers. “So, who’s Tutu, Scotty?”

 

“Nobody you know.”, I say, finally grabbing my phone back.

 

“Wait, that name looks familiar.”, she says trying to take the phone back from me. Kaitlyn is practically the same height as I am and almost succeeds in wrestling my phone back.

 

“Wait wait wait. That message was from a Tessa Virtue. Like Tessa Virtue the ballet dancer? That Tessa Virtue?”, she says looking at me incredulously.

 

Here’s the thing I had finally gotten my phone back since the start of the Olympics. It was my first time going through the many well wishes that people have sent me for our win. It felt good to finally get my phone back permanently. Yesterday, I only had a brief moment with it and only so I could post a photo celebrating mine and Kaitlyn’s win. I had thought I was happy that with the Olympics are over and done with, as I could do with the distraction of my phone again.

 

 What I did not expect was that I would get so many greetings. I’ve always been a fairly outgoing person so I know a lot of people and I guess many people consider me friends. But I’m more of an actual inter-personal relationship guy.  I like actual conversations where I can look people in the eye and see their real-time reactions to conversations. I like that I don’t have to worry how people will read what I write down because actually saying the words out loud provides the proper emotion, inflection and emphasis that I mean for it to have. That’s why social media has never appealed to me. It feels like you’re interacting with people in such a manufactured manner.

 

Anyway, I only really opened social media accounts because I was forced to. Kaitlyn and my cousins kept bugging me to put one up so I could participate in what was then the ongoing craze of the ice bucket challenge. As it was for a good cause, and I figured even my minor celebrity could help spread the word, I reluctantly allowed them to sign me up for Twitter and Instagram accounts. My Facebook account from the olden days remains private to my close friends and family. In any case, it has remained dormant for a long time as I lost interest after screencaps of personal posts were made public sometime ago.

 

Our agent insists that I should try to have an active online presence, saying that I need to promote the corporations that sponsor us. I finally relented after the constant reminders to make occasional posts. I’ve even occasionally posted even when they don’t ask me to. But I have never ever experienced a response like this to any single post I’ve made before. My phone was blowing up like crazy.

 

There was absolutely no earthly way that I was going to be able to read through the couple of thousand comments that have been made on that victory post. Nevertheless, I tried to be a good guy though and scroll through the first hundred or so.  My eyes started watering after a while so I decided to stop. My thumb was about to hit the home button when I saw the handle _tessavirtue17._ I immediately stopped and scroll up a little to make sure I read it right. Yup, there it was. There’s a name I haven’t seen or heard in a long time.

 

I immediately click on her name which brings me to a profile page filled with dramatic dance poses. Her profile only said “dancer at the National Ballet of Canada”. All her posts are black and white photos of her in various ballet positions. I felt a thrill of excitement go through me. Tutu Virtue. The cute little girl who I danced with eons ago. The little girl who was such a good dancer that even at a young age she was offered a place at the National Ballet’s academy. The only girl at the skate club that could keep up with me.

 

None of her Instagram posts show her actual face. It’s all black and white dramatic ballet positions, some just focusing on her torso, her feet, her legs or her neck.

 

“Scottie! Hello? Tessa Virtue and Tutu are like the same person? Tessa Virtue is Tutu your dance partner before me?”, Kaitlyn says again, interrupting my reverie.

 

I turn my back to her not wanting to get into it any further. But it’s a tight fit in the room we’re in. We’re at Canada House spending time with friends and family have all gathered to congratulate us on our win.

 

“Hold up,” Kaitlyn says as she blocks me from leaving. She grabs my hand and determinedly weaves me through the throngs of people finally stopping as we get to the secure area where only athletes and members of the Canadian entourage are allowed. It was much quieter back here, with the bulk of the crowd hanging out in the main hall for the afternoon’s festivities.

 

She leads me towards one of the couches in one corner of the room and pushes me down onto a couch. She sits facing me, cross legged on the other side of the couch. I sigh at the inevitable interrogation this will bring.

 

“So you mean to tell me that Tutu, your old skating partner, the one you were moaning and miserable about the whole first year I was skating with you, is none other than ballerina extraordinaire, Tessa Virtue?”

 

“Okay, first, I have no idea how it’s possible that I never mentioned her name to you so I don’t understand why you didn’t know until now that Tessa was my first partner. Second, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.”

 

“Okay, first”, she says, mimicking my exasperated tone, “You only ever referred to her as Tutu. Second, she’s a really big deal in the dance world right now. She's the most popular female principal dancer at the National. She’s like a rockstar in the dance world.”, she answers back. “Although, that explains the Tutu nickname. I always thought her name was Tallulah or something like that”.

 

I sigh and look at my dance partner of eighteen years. I make the quick decision to just seek her help as there was no way I was going to save that disastrous message I sent.

 

“Yes. I lost track of her when she left. I had no idea she’s now the rockstar of the dance world and finally, can you just help me rectify this disaster?”, I ask, handing her my phone.

 

She rolls her eyes but immediately opens my phone anyway. I try to peek over her shoulder as she types but she shrugs me off before she finally hands my phone back to me.

 

            _Scottmoir14_

_LOL. Sorry. That was awkward. I don’t know where that came from. I guess I was just too excited at the prospect that my first partner has resurfaced after 20 years. How are you, Tutu?_

 

It’s still weird but it’s better than my reaction of just fruitlessly hitting my phone’s keys.

 

“Thanks, Kaitlyn.”, I say as I side hug her.

 

She looks at me with a raised eyebrow and says, “Yeah yeah. Wow. Tessa Virtue. Now I know why you were such an asswipe when we first started skating together. I had like super big skates to fill, eh?”

 

“Hey, none of that. Once I stopped being my mopey ass self, we did quite good, yeah?”, I reply. She's got a point about me being an asshole though. Even at eleven, I was such a pain in the butt after Tessa left to join the National Ballet's academy that I was downright nasty to Kaitlyn when we first skated together. I was always on her case about her not being as good as Tutu.

 

 “I guess.”, she answers. But I can see how her mood has dropped. “You do know right, that even until now, many people still think that you literally and figuratively carry me? That I’m the weak link in our two-person show. Like now I wonder if she didn’t go to ballet school and she continued to be your partner, if people would think the same, you know?”

 

“K, we’ve done well. Anyone in their right mind could see how good you are. Yes, we had our challenges but that’s never on just you. Everything was both on us. The ups and the downs. The successes and the failures. Fuck what everyone else thinks.”

 

“Yeah, you say that now. But maybe in some alternate universe, you’re like the Greatest of All Time – the most decorated figure skaters in the world or something like that.”

 

“We got a bronze, silver and gold Olympic medals. That’s not something to turn your nose up at. Maybe in some alternate universe Tessa and I became the most successful ice dancing team. Maybe in some alternate universe she or I had a career ending injury and we never even get to the Olympics. These are all what ifs. I'm glad you're my partner. Who else would put up with me? So, you know, stop moping and let’s get back out there are celebrate our gold, yeah?”

 

At this, she breaks into a big smile and takes my hand. She pulls me up and we go back out to the party, drinking, singing and dancing the night away.

 

           

* * *

 

It’s well past 3 am by the time Kaitlyn is finally done with the partying and is ready to go back to the village. She’s so drunk I have to half carry, half drag her along with me. My buzz has long since gone. I stopped drinking at around eleven so I could watch out for her since I realized that she was determined to get drunk because she was in a game of who can make who more jealous with one of our skating teammates, Andrew.

 

“I fucking hate Andrew Poje.”, she says. It comes out more like “I flushing shame Shamnew Shmone”, but I’ve known her long enough to be able to decipher her drunk speak.

 

“You don’t hate Poje.”, I say gently. “You two just can’t get your act together so you act like you hate each other when all you really want is to tear each other’s clothes off.”, I say.

 

She stops and starts poking me on the chest. “No. You tell him….”. And she’s off to the bushes emptying her stomach of the night’s drinks.

 

 After about a minute of me holding her hair back while she heaves into the plants near the sidewalk, a couple more of me a hugging her as she drunk cries and several more minutes of walking, we finally get back to the village. I deposit her in her room and endorse her to her roommate Maegan, a pairs skater. I sigh as I walk by to my own room, knowing I’d have to deal with the ramblings of another drunk person.

 

“Scotto!”, Andrew greets me as I enter the room. He’s still holding a bottle of beer, clearly not done partying yet.

 

 “You, my friend, should stop trying to make my partner jealous and just tell her you like her so we can end all this drama.”, I say in a deadpan tone.

 

 His face briefly betrays the fact that he’s not as drunk as he wishes he is.

 

 “I…”, he starts.

 

 “Whatever, Poje. That’s my best friend you’re messing around with. You are my friend too which is why I didn’t punch your lights out when all you’ve done tonight was dance with every girl who came on to you while ignoring Kaitlyn. She won’t tell me what’s going on with you two, but I’m telling you, if push comes to shove, I will forget we’re friends. And if you hurt her, I will forget you’re one of Canada’s best singles skaters, I will hurt you. I am on her team.”

 

 Surprisingly, he drops the drunk act and then walks across the room to hug me.

 

 “You’re a good friend, Moir.”, is all he says. He then turns around and leaves the room.

 

I don’t have the energy to go after him. And since he’s not as drunk as I initially thought he was, I decide to not go after him. I’m also bone tired from all the day’s festivities and decide to finally just go to bed and relax. I wash up and strip down to my boxers. I settle into my bed. And I know it’s a bad habit, but I pick up my phone from the side table. I open my phone, which I’ve neglected since that afternoon, to check what’s happened since then. With some trepidation, I open my Instagram account. I scroll through all the random messages sent by fans and was pleased to see I got a message back from Tessa.

 

            _Tessavirtue17_

_Hey! I’m so happy you still remember me. For a while, I wasn’t sure. I’m good. Great actually. I'm dancing my dream role at the National this year. And you got your dream of Olympic Gold this year too. That’s great, eh?_

 

I smile at the thought that she thinks it’s possible that I’d ever forget her. I mean, that’s ridiculous. Even as a child, Tessa Virtue was unforgettable. She had the sweetest smile. She was so painfully shy that we barely talked the first year we skated together. But by our second, and as turns out, last year of skating together, we had become best friends. We even “dated” for a couple of months, which basically consisted of us skating around holding hands even when we didn’t need to and calling ourselves boyfriend and girlfriend. And there was one time where I ended up kissing her after being goaded into it by a couple of my cousins.  _Huh,_   _I kind of forgot that she was my first kiss._

 

I immediately compose a reply.

 

            _Scottmoir14_

 _Ha! Like I could ever forget you._ _My first partner, first girlfriend. Even my first kiss. Haha. I_ _can’t believe we lost track of each other. What is it now, 18 years? I’m so happy you got your dream. We both did! My partner tells me your like the rockstar of the dance world. So cool. I should come and watch a performance when we get back._

 

I hit send and immediately open my browser with the sole intention of googling Tessa Virtue. It’s a little unfair that she’s updated on what’s happened with me but I have no idea what’s going on with her. As soon as the results return, I sit up in my bed, stunned. All thoughts of sleep immediately leave my body and my mind turns wide awake.

 

 _Holy effing… wow. Tessa Virtue is stunning._ But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. The little girl that I used to skate with was already pretty. But this woman whose photograph is staring back at me through the tiny screen of my phone is gorgeous. I scroll through photo after photo of her. Tutu Virtue has grown up.

 

I see a link to a video of her dancing and tap on it. It brings me to a video of her in a _pas de deux_ of the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet. I see now why Kaitlyn called her a rockstar. She’s amazing. She looks like she’s floating on the stage as light as a feather. But she’s also strong and powerful. I sit there staring in wonderment watching as she dances with her partner. The video is just coming to an end when I see a notification saying she’s replied to my message. I eagerly close the video and tap on the message.

 

            _Tessavirtue17_

_So a quick google search tells me that it’s 4 am in South Korea right now. How are you still awake? Party much, Scottie?_

 

 I have a quick laugh at her use of my old nickname. I called her Tutu, my little ballet dancer. And she called me Scottie.

 

            _Scottmoir14_

_Partied just enough, thank you very much. I had to watch out for a friend who was determined to get drunk. Hence, the staying out late. I’m just about to sleep now._

 

I wait for her reply impatiently while pondering the thought of firing up my laptop to continue my google search of her.

 

            _Tessavirtue17_

            _Awww. You were always a great friend. Glad to know that hasn’t changed. Well, I guess I should say good night then._

 

Not willing to let her go just yet, I send a quick reply.

 

            _Scottmoir14_

_Nah, I feel like I got a second wind so I probably won’t be sleeping just yet. And when else am I going to have the chance to catch up you? Unless you’re busy right now?_

_Tessavirtue17_

            _I’m actually just about to head into a class in a couple of minutes. And who says this is the only time we have to catch up with each other? Unless of course, you’re too busy for the likes of me now that you’re an Olympic champion._

I would have frowned at her last statement except that she ends it with a wink emoji.

 

            _Scottmoir14_

_Awww that’s too bad. About the class I mean. Tell you what, if it’s ok with you, send me your number. I’m getting a ton of messages on Instagram and it’d be easier if I can message you? Also, I’d never be busy for the likes of you, Tutu. If there’s one of us who should be concerned about that, it’s probably me._

I wait for her to reply to my message but after about ten minutes, I come to the conclusion that she’s gone into class and probably won’t be able to answer for a while. With that thought in mind, I find myself feeling sleepy. So I lay my phone back on the side table and turn off the light. That night, I dream that I was dancing with her in the _pas de deux._


	3. Tessa: All I Wanted Was to Catch Up With an Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa tries to convince herself that it's all just friendly. She fails miserably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sorry it takes me so long to update. I'm newish to writing FF and didn't realize how hard it is. I'm trying my best though.
> 
> 2\. No beta so all mistakes are mine. Also details regarding ballet may be shaky due to lack of knowledge in that area.
> 
> 3\. Thanks for all the sweet comments and for reading!
> 
> 4\. I'm changing chapter summaries to reflect what's on the chapter title, which are basically the lies that Tessa and Scott are telling themselves as they go through this fic.

It’s uncharacteristic of me to bolt from class straight away. While I’m an introvert, I had cultivated good relationships with people from the ballet company. So for me to run off as soon as class ended without saying goodbye to the other people there is something that’s unusual for sure. I can’t help it though. I had to get back to my phone.

 

I make a beeline for the changing room, grabbing my phone quickly. I tap on the Instagram app and there it was, a message from him.

 

            _Scottmoir14_

_Awww that’s too bad. About the class I mean. Tell you what, if it’s ok with you, send me your number. I’m getting a ton of messages on Instagram and it’d be easier if I can message you? Also, I’d never be busy for the likes of you, Tutu. If there’s one of us who should be concerned about that, it’s probably me._

A thrill rushes through me. It’s the same feeling when I initially thought he was serious when he said in his message that he missed me. It’s the same feeling I had an hour ago when after he walked back the message, Scott and I started exchanging messages. I don’t know if he was flirting with me. I’m not the best at reading these kinds of signals. But he seemed to at least welcome communicating with me.

 

I shake my head at my reaction to all this. It’s like I’m caught in a maelstrom of being a fangirl, crushing on Scott and the desire to flirt with him over messages all the while not knowing if this is all just on my end. I mean, I more or less know that him and Kaitlyn aren’t romantic – or at least that’s what they publicly say. But I don’t know if he’s involved with anyone else. He’s been very circumspect about not talking about his personal life. So I really should proceed with caution and treat this as just a friendly thing rather than entertain these niggling thoughts of a potential something in my head.

 

I consider his last message. He wants my number. I can’t help it, I giggle. This is good, right? It means he wants to talk more. It means he wants to keep in touch.

 

Without a second thought, I message him back my number along with an apology for not having been able to get back to him right away. At that exact same moment, Heather, one of the principals at the ballet comes into the dressing room.

 

“You should see your face as you stare at your phone.”

 

“Huh? Oh.. um..”, I reply, snapping out of my thoughts. I can’t help it, I still get intimidated whenever I’m around her. She’s one of the stars of the National Ballet. The fascination is not as bad as when I first finally joined the _corps de ballet_ , but some part of me will always be starstruck with her and her husband, Guillaume, also a principal at the ballet.

 

“I was just saying that whatever’s making you smile and giggle on your phone must be either really funny or really thrilling.”, she replies back.

 

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just got a message from an old friend. He and I go way back.”

 

“Right.”, she says, looking at me knowingly. She and Guillaume have kind of taken me under their wing and it’s a thrill to be mentored by such esteemed dancers. Having said that, they themselves are extremely loved up and have been bugging me for a while now about my lack of interest in being in a relationship with anyone. They always remind me that life shouldn’t be hampered by dance.

 

I just smile at her, not willing to betray anything more.  She bids her goodbyes and exits the dressing room. I know she’s anxious to get home to her kids.

 

I mentally calculate the time, which should put Scott at around six in the morning in South Korea. He was probably still fast asleep so I shouldn’t expect any reply from him anytime soon. I change out of my dance clothes and start packing up my things to go home.

 

* * *

 

 I’ve just finished washing dishes and cleaning up my dining room when my phone buzzes. I almost knock over my mug of tea in my haste to pick it up. I see the notification for a message from an unknown number. I open it immediately and find a message from Scott.

 

_When you didn’t answer right away, I did realize that you’d probably gone into class. I was afraid for a while there that I’d scared you off by asking for your number. Have to say, your reply was a great thing to wake up to. My roommate kept teasing me about the grin I had while reading your message._

I smile at the thought that he liked waking up to me sending him my number. I immediately add his number to my contacts while I contemplate a reply.

 

            _Tessa Virtue_

            _Hey, I’m just settling in getting ready for bed now. Glad I was able to bring a smile to your face when you woke up. I got the same treatment from one of my fellow dancers yesterday._

_Scott Moir_

_Huh. So I made you sport a stupid grin on your face too? Just kidding. Your face could never look stupid._

I laugh at the compliment. I fire up my phone’s camera and take a selfie while pulling a wacky face. Satisfied that it looks sufficiently ridiculous, I send it to him. It takes a while for him to respond. The grey block with the dots indicating he’s composing a reply on top of my screen shows up and disappears several times before a message finally comes through.

 

            _Scott Moir_

_LMAO. Okay, I take it back. I won’t say you look stupid though. I’d say that you buck the trend and can be both ridiculously silly and gorgeous at the same time._

 

I’m taken aback by the compliment. If I had any doubts before about Scott flirting with me, this kind of clears it up a little bit more. I don’t want to be presumptuous though so I try to deflect.

 

            _Tessa Virtue_

_Wow with the compliments, Scottie. Now I’m blushing. I guess 18 years have taught you a lot about making a girl feel good, eh?_

 

I send the message without having read it back and immediately facepalm. _Making a girl feel good, Tessa? What the fuck were you thinking._ I’m trying to think of a way to salvage the situation when a message from him comes through.

 

            _Scott Moir_

_I like to think that I’ve learned a thing or two about giving a girl pleasure… Yuck, now I feel like a lecher having just typed that. I’m assuming you meant something else. Sorry, I just couldn’t help teasing you back. :D_

_Tessa Virtue_

_Well thanks. On both the compliment and the not making my weirdly worded reply make things awkward._

_Scott Moir_

_My pleasure ;) So, how was dance class yesterday?_

 

Again, a thrill passes through me. First, the compliments and then the taking interest in what I’ve been doing. Even at thousands of miles away, Scott Moir was certainly charming his way into my good graces.

 

It’s almost 11 pm when I feel sleepiness come over me. Scott and I have been messaging back and forth for almost two hours save for a thirty-minute break for him to shower and get ready for his day.

 

So far, he’s caught me up about what he’ll be up to for the next couple of days in Pyeongchang now that his event is over. He tells me about probably not getting more than a couple hours of sleep for the next five days until they come home because it’s just party after party in Canada House. He shares that it’s so great to be able to eat and drink whatever he wants again after the heavily regimented routines and meals they were restricted to during the lead up to the games, and how excited he is that he’s finally free from all that. But also that he’s making sure to drink responsibly because after months of abstaining, his alcohol tolerance is shot.

 

He conspiratorially confesses that he’s going to be skipping the mandatory rehearsal for their gala performance that afternoon in favor of watching the women’s hockey finals. I tell him he better make it up to Kaitlyn for that. He tells me how excited he is for the women’s figure skating event in a couple of days’ time and being able to support his teammates who will be competing.

 

He tells me about the great team that they’re working with and how it’s a dream that he’s being coached by Marie France and Patrice.

 

I on the other hand, catch him up on rehearsals for the March tour performances I’m involved in. I tell him that I’m dancing Carmen, which has been my dream forever. I tell him how I’m going on a short tour with the National Ballet in a couple of months’ time and that is very exciting for me as it brings ballet closer to people who otherwise wouldn’t have the chance to see it.

 

I tell him about the people I work with and the choreographers that we have and I tell him that the fact that he is currently working with his role models coincidentally parallels the fact I too have been blessed with being able to work with my role models Guillaume and Heather. He on the other hand tells me tells me that my excitement to bring ballet to the masses mirrors his desire to tour the country to bring ice dancing to small towns and his passion for giving back to the people.

 

It’s getting late though and my eyes are drifting slowly shut though so I know I have to let him go… for now.

 

            _Tessa Virtue_

            _Much as I’d love to continue this conversation, I am bound to fall asleep soon and I’d rather have a proper good night rather than you just waiting around for a reply I’ve been unable to send because I’d fallen asleep._

_Scott Moir_

_As much as it pains me to say goodnight for now, I can’t get in the way of you and sleep. I still remember how cranky you were in the mornings when we were kids. Even more so when you didn’t get enough sleep._

 

I smile at the memory and delight in the fact that he remembers minute details such as this even now.

 

_Tessa Virtue_

_Good night, Scott._

_Scott Moir_

_Sweet dreams, Tessa._

* * *

 

I wake up the next day refreshed and relaxed. By the time Scott and I had bid each other good night, I was in such a good mood that I feel like I had some of the best sleep I have had in a while. As per usual, I fire up my phone and to check my messages. I open my notifications and several it seems that several people in various group chats I’m in have been sending photos.

 

I click on the group chat for some of my closest friends at the National Ballet. As soon as it opens, I am shocked to see Scott’s face splashed all over the group chat. It takes a moment for me to realize that he has been photoshopped into a Canadian Heritage Moment. A second later, a message from Jordan comes through.

 

            _Jordan Virtue_

            _Did you see the meme featuring Scott? I laughed so hard I almost spilled coffee all over myself._

 

            _Tessa Virtue_

            _I’ve only just woken up but I feel like it’s been sent in my chat groups all morning. Do you have any idea what happened?_

_Jordan Virtue_

_Hold up, let me call you._

 

Not ten seconds later, my phone starts ringing.

 

“Hey, Jordan.”, I answer.

 

“So apparently, Scott got sloshed at the women’s hockey final and the cameras caught him.”, she says laughing.

 

“I doubt he’s sloshed. He told me he’s being careful about drinking in Korea since being off alcohol for a couple of months now has probably brought his alcohol tolerance really low.”, I reply automatically.

 

“Uhhh… did you just say that he told you? How? When? What?”

 

I cringe as soon as I realize what I’d done. _Damn it, Tessa, wake up._

 

“We might have been exchanging messages since I congratulated him after their win…”, I reluctantly confess.

 

An ear-piercing scream comes through my phone.

 

“Jordan, you’re going to make me go deaf!”

 

“Sorry. Sorry. I am just shocked and frankly just a tiny bit miffed that you kept the fact that you’ve been messaging with Scott Moir from me! How long has this been going on? And what do you mean messaging with him?”

 

“It is so not a big deal. And you better not start making it a big deal.”

 

“Okay, okay. It’s new. It’s fresh. You don’t even know if it’s just him being charming or if he’s actually flirting with you. So you’re being cautious and not telling anyone in case it’s nothing.”

 

Damn it, she knows me too well. I think about it a bit and decide that casual indifference is the way to go.

 

“Whatever. I just congratulated him on Instagram. He messaged back. We’re just catching up with each other. Like I said, no big deal”, I reply.

 

“Whatever you say, little sis. And while I’d love to bug you more about this, I have to go. Busy day ahead. Love you. Talk later.”, she says.

 

She ends the call before I could say anything else. I shake my head knowing that when she gets the time, I’m definitely getting interrogated. I open the photo of Scott again and decide to investigate more about what happened. A few google results later, I’m brought to GIFs of Scott yelling at the referee of the game to “Are you kidding me? Wake up!”. I laugh at the utter Canadian-ness of it all. I open up my messages and call up his contact.

 

            _Tessa Virtue_

            _So, I go to sleep and overnight, you’ve become a meme in addition to being a Canadian hero._

 

_Scott Moir_

_Well good morning to you, Ms. Virtue. Apparently, people think I’ve been drunk yelling at the refs. For the record, I wasn’t drunk. I just can’t carry off the toque look without looking drunk._

_Tessa Virtue_

_Don’t worry. I believe you._

_Scott Moir_

_Awww, thanks Tess. I was actually waiting for you to wake up so I could get your take on it. Glad to know I haven’t scared you off with my antics._

_Tessa Virtue_

_Good thing, I don’t scare easily._

_Scott Moir_

_So, what are you up to today?_

_Tessa Virtue_

_Still the same. Rehearsals for the upcoming performances this morning then class in the afternoon. I might meet up with a friend later. But nothing solid. You?_

_Scott Moir_

_I think I’m laying low tonight. Haha. We had some interviews today. I’m getting ready to go out in a bit with Kaitlyn. Then the women’s figure skating final is tomorrow. So, we’ll watch that._

_Tessa Virtue_

_Oh… well have a nice night with Kaitlyn._

_Scott Moir_

_Thanks. Can I share a secret with you though? You absolutely cannot tell anyone or else Kaitlyn would kill me._

I hate to admit it but this message gives me pause. Shit. Is he going to tell me that him and Kaitlyn are actually an item and that I’ve been imagining this thing between us? I guess, either way, I’d rather know now. Rip the band aid off and all that.

_Tessa Virtue_

_Oooh, hot gossip. Pray tell, what’s this that you would like to tell me?_

_Scott Moir_

_I’m actually hoping that Poje finally asks her out so she can ditch me and I can get some sleep instead of running around all over the village going to parties._

            _Tessa Virtue_

_Poje as in Andrew Poje? Wow. They’re a thing?_

_Scott Moir_

_They both want to be a thing but they’ve been dancing around this thing since we were teenagers. It certainly doesn’t help that the media’s determined to make me and her an item for the better part of our career, which scared Poje off for a long time. Things are brewing here though so I’m crossing my fingers one of them finally steps up and does something about it. If only so I don’t have to watch them both get drunk everytime they’re within ten feet of each other in a desperate attempt to make the other jealous._

I breathe a sigh of relief at the confirmation that Scott and Kaitlyn are in fact not involved romantically. At the same time, I marvel at the fact that Canada’s hottest male skater (Scott not included) has been pining for Canada’s hottest female skater for years, and vice versa, and nobody has a clue. It also means that Scott’s not taken. Or at least by Kaitlyn. He could still have girlfriends stashed all over Canada for all I know.

 

            _Tessa Virtue_

            _Wow. I had no idea. Wow._

 

            _Scott Moir_

            _Well that’s Figure Skating for you. Sometimes it all seems like just one giant incestuous family._

_Tessa Virtue_

_Haha. Well truth be told, it’s like that in the dance world too. I guess that’s what happens when you’re working with hot attractive people all the time._

_Scott Moir_

_Are you including me in this group of hot attractive people you speak of?_

_Tessa Virtue_

_Nice fishing there, Moir. You know you’re hot. I’m not afraid to admit it._

_Scott Moir_

_Awww. Now I’m blushing._

 

Scott certainly can’t see it, but I myself am blushing at my forwardness. I look at the time and unfortunately, I have to run if I didn’t want to be late for rehearsals. I’m about to tell him this when a message comes through from him.

_Scott Moir_

_Hey, Tess. I’m so sorry but Kaitlyn’s knocking on my door now so I’m off. I might not be able to answer your messages._

_Tessa Virtue_

_I have to head out as well. Have a great night, Scottie._

_Scott Moir_

_Hope your day is great too, Tess._


	4. Scott - All I Wanted Was to Help a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott plays Cupid. He tells himself it's because he wants to help a friend. If he's honest with himself, he might also be doing it so he has more time for his long-lost friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In a surprising turn of events, this next chapter came out quickly hence the update. 
> 
> 2\. This may be a little WeaPo heavy but it's all for a good cause, I promise.
> 
> 3\. Still no beta so all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> 4\. Thanks for all the comments and kudos. They really do make me smile.

It’s just past midnight but I can barely stay awake. But I’m having to stay at this party because once more, my dearest friend in the world is partying like there’s no tomorrow. Poje arrived along with some of the bobsled guys about thirty minutes ago, and since then, Kaitlyn seems to have downed and inordinate amount of alcohol.

 

“Dance with me, Scottie”, she screams into my ear as she wiggles her butt beside me.

 

I wince at the picture this must present to the people in Canada House. I hope nobody has a phone trained on us right now because this will surely make the headlines back home.

 

I spy Poje sitting with a group of ladies towards the side of the room. I look around for a familiar face I can entrust Kaitlyn to when she decides to leave my side and go into the makeshift dancefloor in the middle of the room. I could totally be using this time to be messaging with Tessa while we’re both awake. She should be on her lunch break by now and far as I know, she doesn’t have class until mid-afternoon. Instead, I barely have time to look at my phone, much less possibly carry on a decent conversation while watching over a friend who seems hell bent on self-destructing.

 

I decide enough is enough and walk myself over to where Poje is sitting. The girls he’s sitting with automatically welcome me into their circle. Instead of sitting down though, I whisper in his hear.

 

“I need to talk to you at the back. Now.”

 

I don’t usually throw authority around. But this is one exception where I’ll gladly use my position as Captain of the Skating Team. He reluctantly stands up and follows me to the area reserved for athletes. It’s much more calm back here, with only about five other people in the room who all seemed to be in serious conversations themselves. I steer him to the couch where Kaitlyn and I were sat the other day while I was telling her about Tessa.

 

“Seriously, Poje. This has got to stop. This dancing around each other drama you guys have been on since we were teenagers is so old.”, I say looking him straight in the eye.

 

I can see he’s about to roll his eyes at me but is stopped by the serious look on my face. And then it's like a dam broke and his face contorts into a mess of emotions.

 

“You’re lucky, you know. She’s always been with you. She’s always loved you. She’s always chosen you.”, he says. I can see the brokenness in him. I’m not made of stone, and I feel sad at the entire situation.

 

“You know we’ve never been a romantic thing, right? Not when we were kids. Not when we were teenagers. Not now. Not ever.” I say quietly to him.

 

“That’s because you’re blind, man. You don’t see how beautiful she is and how loving and how perfect.”

 

I feel myself throwing up a little in my mouth. I mean I don’t look at Kaitlyn as my sister. I can objectively see that she’s attractive and I do recognize that she’s a great catch. I wouldn’t otherwise be able to act so in love with her whenever we have to dance to romantic songs. But she’s only ever been my friend so to hear her being described in these terms in a voice to reverent and tender is quite disconcerting. Nonetheless, I am determined to be the best friend ever so I soldier on.

 

“Yes. I know. But still, nothing ever on her part and vice versa. Besides, you know as well as I do that she’s had a thing for you since we were teenagers. You’ve just had your head so far up your ass with your insecurities about our relationship to do anything about it.”, I reply.

 

I know I’m laying it on thick now. But I’m so done with this drama. Not when I could be spending time on my own… I don’t know what yet really, but let’s just say, possibilities.

 

He lifts his head up and looks at me. I shake my head at the sight of Andrew Poje. I’m man enough to admit that he’s the most conventionally handsome guy among all of us. But the way he’s looking at me with puppy dog eyes, his hair flopped over to one side is just sad.

 

“Just go to her and tell her how you feel, man. If it amounts to something then you both go home happy. If it doesn’t then you know you tried. Besides, you know that this is the right moment. We haven’t announced it but we’re retiring from competition. So that can no longer be an issue for you moving forward.”, I say encouragingly.

 

I see the exact moment when he finally gets it. His puppy dog look turns into a steely eyed determination I see whenever he takes on the ice during competitions. He offers his hand to me and shakes my hand before heading off back into the common area.

 

I decide to stay back and fish my phone out of my pocket. I see a couple of messages have come in from Tessa and I eagerly open them.

 

            _Tessa Virtue_

            _Horrible weather in Toronto today._

 

Along with the message, she sent a selfie of her. Or at least what I would assume to be her. It’s basically just a face wrapped in so many scarves you could hardly make out the person behind it all.

 

            _Scott Moir_

_Lovely. That’s probably one of the best looks I’ve seen on you yet._

 

            _Tessa Virtue_

_Haha. How’s the night going?_

_Scott Moir_

_Might have finally gotten a break through on the Poje-Weaver front. Stay tuned._

_Tessa Virtue_

_Awww. Scottie’s taken on Cupid’s bow and arrow?_

_Scott Moir_

_Doubt I could carry off the loincloth with wings look. But I think I might have talked sense into one of them._

_Tessa Virtue_

_Well, good luck with that. Would love to talk more but I am off to class now, unfortunately. Catch you later?_

_Scott Moir_

_Will look forward to your messages when I wake up._

 

I sigh at the abbreviated conversation. Damn this time difference.

 

* * *

 

I wake up the next day and I’m still the only person in the room. I'd gone home soon after my talk with Poje and by the time I'd fallen asleep he still wasn't back. I look over at his bed and find it in the same state as it was the night before. I’m about to lean over to pick my phone up from the nightstand when I hear the lock turn. Poje and Kaitlyn walk in, with their hands around each other, smiling.

 

“Good morning.”, I say from my bed.

 

“I’m taking a shower. Just wanted to say, thanks, man”, Poje says as he picks up a towel and heads off to the ensuite.

 

Kaitlyn walks over to my bed and lays down above the covers beside me.

 

“Thanks, Scott”, she whispers. “Seriously, whatever you said to Andrew last night, I just wanted to say, thank you.”

 

“No worries, K. I’m just happy you’re happy.”, I reply. I kiss the side of her head and give her a quick hug.

 

“I’m going to make it up to you.”, she says as she sits up. “I am somehow, someway, going to find a way to make you as happy as you have made me.”

 

I laugh at this. I don’t doubt that she’s going to find a way to return the favor as she’s one of the most determined and generous people I’ve ever met in my entire life.

 

“Yeah well you can start by handing me my phone please.”, I say.

 

She picks up the phone that I wasn’t able to get to when they came in earlier. But instead of handing it to me, she does her nosy thing again and opens it before I could protest.  _Big mistake, Scott._

 

“Oooohhh… what do we have here?”

 

I try to grab her arm, but she’s able to scroll my notifications.  “Scott! You’ve been messaging with Tessa Virtue!”, she squeals.

 

I turn a slightly pinkish shade and she laughs at the fact that I’m blushing.

 

“Only you, Scott, at thirty, can still blush like you’re a high school kid”, she says while laughing at me.

 

I try to grab the phone again before she can open and read the messages but she’s sat up and moved to Poje’s bed before I could do anything. I can see her eyes widening as she scrolls and a big smile breaks out on her face.  

 

“Scott! You and Tessa Virtue have been flirt messaging! How have you kept this from me? These messages have been going on for days!”

 

She starts bouncing on Poje’s bed all the time giggling and laughing at our messages.

 

“I’ve actually been wondering about this you know. How come a guy who’s so anti-social media had suddenly become addicted to his phone the past couple of days. No wonder. You guys have been talking non-stop!”, she adds.

 

“Give me my phone back, Kaitlyn”, I say. I rise from my bed and move across the room and try to wrestle the phone back from her.

 

At the same moment Poje comes out of the bathroom. He looks over at me and Kaitlyn tangled up in his bed and shakes his head.

 

“See, this is why it took me such a long time to actually ask you out.”, he says to Kaitlyn who has successfully wriggled away from my grasp. I’m relieved to see he says this with a smile on his face. Maybe I do have Cupid powers after all.

 

Kaitlyn smiles back at him indulgently and replies, “Well if you want to be technical about it, I was the one who asked you out last night”.

 

“Only because you spoke before I could.”, he says back flashing his deep dimples at her.

 

“Ughhhh… Please for the love of everything good in this world, take this sweet talk somewhere else.”, I say, glaring at both of them.

 

Kaitlyn just laughs and reminds me that we in fact have to leave in ten minutes if we were to make the women’s free program. She tosses my phone back on my bed before she leaves the room with Poje. I look at my phone sadly knowing I won’t be able to message Tessa yet. Then I rush to the bathroom to get ready.

 

* * *

 

_Scott Moir_

_Are you watching? Kaetlyn got the bronze!!!_

 

I snap a selfie of the Team Canada celebrating in the stands and send it off to Tessa. This is the first message I’m able to send her since this morning. I was only able to briefly glance at her messages from last night since we settled in at the arena for the women's free skate. She updated me on her class – it was great. She wasn’t able to meet up with her friend, who I find out was a guy. I’m internally relieved at this even though I don’t know who the guy friend is. And she had a nice quiet night at home instead.

 

I’m hoping she’s still up but don’t expect her to be so. That’s why I’m happy to see the three little dots indicating she’s composing a reply.

 

            _Tessa Virtue_

_Yes! She was so good. I’m so proud._

_Scott Moir_

_You should see all of Team Canada here. We’re ecstatic. Even the athletes from the other countries are cheering for her._

_Tessa Virtue_

_Yup. Saw you all. The camera briefly panned to you guys._

_Scott Moir_

_Oooh, good thing I wasn’t wearing a toque or screaming at anyone this time._

_Tessa Virtue_

_Yeah. Looking good there, Moir. Also, do I spy Poje and Kaitlyn sitting together._

_Scott Moir_

_Yes indeed they are. I guess you can call me Cupid now. Also, don’t think I missed you telling me I look good there._

I know I’m calling her out but I can’t help it. These past couple of days, Tessa and I have been exchanging playful text messages but apart from me telling her in no uncertain terms that I’m not with Kaitlyn – I had to get it out there somehow because the media’s on their bullshit again and I can’t have her thinking I’m flirting with her while with someone else - we’ve never really broached the subject of what this is all about. I mean I don't even know whether or not she’s seeing anyone. Judging by her messages to me though, she welcomes my advances and it’s not like she’s entirely innocent in all of this. She’s giving her own too.

 

She sends back a blushing emoji instead of an answer and I decide to let it go for now. We exchange a couple more messages back and forth until someone chides me for not paying attention to the flower ceremony. She sends back a last message telling me goodnight and I guess that’s it for the next couple of hours at least.

 

At this point, I’m sick and tired of the time difference and can’t wait to get back on Canadian soil so we don’t have to keep missing each other.

 

It’s back to Canada House for the team after Kaetlyn’s win. This time, I get to have fun and enjoy the party without having to worry about watching over anyone. For some reason though, it doesn’t seem all that exciting, like I’m looking for some phantom presence beside me. I’m into my second beer of the night when I realize that the drowsiness I’ve attributed to the alcohol was something else. _Dammit, I didn’t want to get sick on my last couple of days at the Olympics._

 

I drag myself off back to my room and get into bed. Despite the alcohol in my system, I take some cold medicine. I send one last message to Tessa before I sleep.

 

            _Scott Moir_

_Was at the Canada House party but didn’t stay long. It wasn’t that much fun. I think it would’ve been if you’re here. Anyway, I think I’m getting sick._

 

* * *

 

I spend the last couple of days in South Korea with my head in the clouds because of all the cold medicine I’m taking. I’m barely able to get through the gala and I’m pretty sure I messed up the choreography for the closing. I can’t really bring myself to care though because I’m worried about the travel back. I cringe at the thought of the 24-hour travel back to Canada and how painful it’s going to be on my eardrums. I power through though the rest of the time until we get to the closing ceremonies where I try to savor as much as I can my last Olympics as a competitor.

 

I find Kaitlyn next to Andrew as we prepare to walk out for the closing ceremonies. It’s loud and I can hardly hear her but she tugs my had and I think she tells me she has good news for me but she’s still working it out. I smile at her and hug her tight, thanking her for all the years we’ve skated together and the friendship she’s given me.

 

Tessa and I have continued to message each other. If there’s one thing I guess that’s good about reconnecting while we’re far away from each other, it’s that we’ve gotten to know each other quite well. When I’m not doing interviews or hanging out with other athletes, my face is stuck to my phone messaging back and forth with her.  We talk about our families. She remembers my Aunt Carol, my brothers and my cousin Cara. I ask after her sister who would tag along once in a while to our practices and who had become friends with my cousin.

 

Yesterday, I finally broached the subject of possibly seeing her once I get back to Canada. I told her I don’t mind driving to Toronto while I’m home in Ilderton for the next couple of weeks. Unfortunately, at that time, she’s going to be out of town performing in Montreal. And by the time she gets back to Toronto, I will have to be the one back in Montreal rehearsing for the Stars on Ice tour.

 

Finding no possible avenues for actually seeing each other within the next couple of weeks, we decide to table the discussion for later. We’ve missed each other for the last 18 years. What’s another couple of months or so.

 

What’s certain to me at this point though is that whatever this thing I currently have with Tessa Virtue has suddenly become very important to me and I hope that I’ve become the same to her in some way too.

 

* * *

 

As soon as we our flight touches down at Pearson Airport, I get my phone from my pocket and power it on. I immediately send a message to Tessa.

 

            _Scott Moir_

_Touchdown Toronto._

 

            _Tessa Virtue_

_Welcome home! Glad to be on the same side of the world as you again._

_Scott Moir_

_I’m half tempted to miss my connecting flight to London and go leave this airport to see you, you know._

_Tessa Virtue_

_I’m half tempted to drive to the airport right now to pick you up. But your family would kill me if I did that. Besides I’m leaving for Montreal tomorrow, remember?_

_Scott Moir_

_I doubt they’d be upset about me missing my flight if I told them why. Also, it’s ridiculous that I’m going to be home for the two weeks you’re at the city where I train. And then by the time I go back there, you’ll be gone._

 

Despite my words though, I knew that my family would kill me if I thought about leaving London for the entirety of the next week. My brother Danny took time off from work and flew his entire family from Calgary into town to spend the week with us. So any idea that I may have had to make a quick trip to Montreal was certainly out of the question.

 

_Tessa Virtue_

_Hey, we’ll find a way to see each other. Besides, at least we’re in the same country again. Progress._

 

I’m prevented from replying as we deplane and go through customs. I say goodbye to the other athletes who were on the same flight as me. I give Kaitlyn a big hug as she leaves to catch her connecting flight home.

 

“See you in a couple of weeks, K. Take good care of yourself.” I tell her, patting her head. She’d unfortunately picked up my cold and was miserable the entire plane ride home. Good thing, Andrew was seated on the aisle across from her and doted on her almost the entirety of the flight. He even got reprimanded by the flight attendant once for standing up to get her water whilst the fasten seatbelt sign was on.

 

“Hey, Scott. Remember when I told you I’m working on good news?”, she says between sniffles after we break off the hug.

 

“Yes. Do you want to tell me now?”

 

“Well, I’ve lined up a choreographer for our exhibition performance for Stars on Ice. I’ll give you the details closer to the rehearsal dates. But I’ve arranged everything so we’re all good.”, she tells me.

 

A couple of days ago, Kaitlyn told me that she wanted to be the one to choose our choreographer and the song we’ll be doing for the exhibition piece we’re doing on tour. As a thank you to her for all the years she put up with me, I agreed to give her free reign on it. My tired mind fails to process however the fact that while she’s telling me the good news, her eyes were sparkling and her smile was too wide betraying the fact that she was up to something. I instead just give her a smile. I tell her I trust her instincts on this. We give each other one final hug and I’m off to my gate for London.

 

I take my phone back out to see what messages I’d missed. I see several welcome home messages from family members despite the fact that I’d only texted my mom that I’ve arrived. I guess they carried the arrival of the athletes live on tv. I answer each and every one of the messages from close family members and friends before I see several more messages from Tessa.

 

            _Tessa Virtue_

_I hope the flight wasn’t too painful for you. I’ve done trans-Pacific sick before too and it was hell._

_Scott Moir_

_I’m actually a little more worried for the short flight to London. The smaller planes are more painful on my eardrums._

_Tessa Virtue_

_Yikes. I’m so sorry. I wish I could give you a hug._

_Scott Moir_

_I wish you could give me a hug too._

We continue to message each other until my flight is finally called for boarding. I message her quickly that boarding has commenced and that I probably won’t be able to talk until later tonight. I know that there’s a party at my parents’ place and it will be full of people wanting to catch up. She tells me she understands and that she’ll wait until I’m free. I smile at her messages before powering my phone off. I lay my head back against the headrest and close my eyes.

 

Thank goodness for small mercies, by the time I wake up, the small aircraft is taxiing towards the gate at London Airport. I breathe a sigh of relief that I was able to sleep the entire flight which saved me from the pain caused by this cold that just doesn’t seem to want to go away. All things considered, I am in much better shape now than when I first got sick in Korea. Still, I am congested and my voice remains hoarse.

 

I’m not prepared for the mass of people waiting for me when I get to the arrivals area. I’m a little overwhelmed by the love and support. It feels like a hundred people or so have shown up to welcome me home. I do some interviews with the media and try to talk to as many people and sign as many autographs as I can and it’s about an hour later by the time we’re able to get home.

 

Tons of cars line up the street leading up to our house and I can hear the music playing before I even get out of the car. The next couple of hours is consumed by hugs, congratulations, well wishes and kisses. I’m afraid I’ve spread so much germs from my cold but my family and friends won’t be stopped. My mom however saves me when three hours into what was supposed to be just a two-hour party, she announces to everyone that I am exhausted and so while she thanks everyone for coming, she’s kicking them out now.

 

I hug my parents and the rest of my family good night and go up to my room. I’ve had time to freshen up earlier and I’m so tired I could only strip off my clothes before collapsing to my bed. Despite the exhaustion however, I only have one thing on my mind. I check the time. It’s 11 pm. May be too late but it doesn’t hurt to try.

 

            _Scott Moir_

_Party’s finally over. Can I call you?_


	5. Tessa - All I Wanted Was to Know Where to Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where asking for recommendations becomes an excuse to call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The good news, new chapter is up. The bad news, the next one might take a while. I have about 500 words down but I'm going on a vacation later in the week so new chapter might be next week at the earliest unless I'm able to write before the break.
> 
> 2\. Disclaimers: No beta sorry for mistakes. Limited knowledge of ballet. Not Canadian so all locations are courtesy of TS interviews, google and google maps. 
> 
> 3\. Song referenced below is from the movie "In Your Eyes". It's Trouble I'm In by Twinbed and it's one of the songs I have in my Tessa/Scott playlist. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFnajsxYTME

It’s late and I’m ready to finally go to bed. I look at the luggage that sits at the bottom of my bed, ready for my early flight tomorrow. I was hoping to message more with Scott now that we’re in the same time zone but I’m sure that he’s occupied. He had told me that his parents were throwing a welcome home party for him. And I’m sure he’s exhausted after the long travel back home.

 

I sigh in disappointment and turn off my bedside lamp. _Patience, Tessa. There’s always tomorrow._ I am about to close my eyes when my phone’s then lights up with an incoming message.

 

            _Scott Moir_

_Hey Tess, can I call you?_

I feel a breath catch in my throat. We’d been “talking” for the last six days or so but we’ve never actually spoken to each other yet. I feel a sense of trepidation. Would the dynamic change when we’re actually talking? What if the text version me isn’t as good as actual conversation me? Whatever this is, is easy and simple. Maybe it was that there was actual physical distance between us that it felt safe to be so open and forward. To flirt with abandon and not think about what it all means. I feel insecurities I’ve long held come up to the fore. But I look at his message and I relent. I too do want to actually properly talk to him and finally hear that voice that I only get to hear on tv speaking to the whole of Canada on my phone, speaking only to me.  

 

I reply yes before I chicken out and wait. Irrationally, I turn my bedside lamp light back on and run my fingers through my hair. _It’s a phone call, Tessa. He’s not going to be seeing you._

 

My phone then starts buzzing. Scott’s photo that I’ve assigned to his contact information lights up my screen. I take a deep breath.

 

“Hello.”, I answer.

 

I hear him take a breath before replying, “Tessa.”

 

“Scott.”, I reply, unsure how to proceed.

 

I don’t know how long we stay like that. Just breathing and not saying anything. Maybe ten seconds, maybe a minute. I feel like I’ve lost sense of time. More than anything else, it’s awkward and I can’t take it. One of my weaknesses in life is that I get the giggles every so often. One situation that triggers the onslaught of said giggles is awkward silences. So, to my utmost horror, I can’t help it when a giggle escapes from my mouth. I try to cover it up but I know he’s already heard me so I try to save the situation.

 

“It’s awkward. It’s awkward, right? It’s not just me?”, I say in between giggles.

 

I’m relieved to hear him laughing as well. “Yeah, not just you. For a while there I was afraid my brain had stopped working. I kept telling myself, say something, but yeah… nothing.”

 

“It’s weird I guess. We’ve been talking non-stop for like an entire week, but we haven’t really actually talked for 18 years.”, I reply.

 

“Yes. Well it’s good to hear your voice. It feels like I’ve been waiting forever to hear it.”, he says.

 

I don’t know what to say to that. So I deflect.

 

“How are you doing? You must be crazy exhausted by now.”, I ask.

 

“Oh man, I’m so tired I feel like I could sleep for days”, he answers his voice hoarse and scratchy.

 

I can hear the tiredness seep through the airwaves. Poor guy. It can’t be easy.

 

“Well your voice sounds terrible, no offense. How’s the cold?”

 

“Still bad. But much better from before we left Korea. I think being back home will be good. My mom only let me have a couple of beers before cutting me off. She then plied me with so much hot tea with lemon for the rest of the night.”

 

“Well I’m happy that someone’s going to be taking care of you for the next couple of weeks.”

 

“I wish you were here taking care of me.”, he replies quietly.

 

This time I’m completely at a loss for words. I tell myself that he’s tired and sick so he’s maybe a little needy.

 

“Did I come on too strong, there?”, he says after I fail to reply.

 

“Uh… no. If I’m being honest with myself, maybe part of me wishes I could take care of you too.”, I admit.

 

He hums a sound of pleasure at my admission.

 

“So how was the party?”, I ask afraid that for any lull in the conversation and I make a fool of myself with the giggles again.

 

“It was great. I wish I wasn’t so sick and tired so I could’ve enjoyed it more.”

 

He continues to tell me about the welcome he received when he arrived at London Airport. How he was in equal parts overwhelmed and in awe of the love and support his hometown has for him. He tells me about the hilarious welcome home banners his friends had put up outside his parents’ house. He tells me that he got so many hugs and kisses he’s worried that that he’s infected the whole town of Ilderton with his cold. His voice was most animated however when he talked about seeing his nieces and nephews again. Both his brothers and their families were there to welcome him home so it’s a full house in the Moir household. He tells me that he gets to spend the rest of the week with them, which is a dream come true for him.

 

I internally sigh at the fact that he’s such a family guy. When I hear him talk about his family with such affection, I reflect on my own closeness to my mother and sister. I’m not as close to my brothers, but I adore my nieces and nephews. If there’s one thing that’s clear that Scott Moir and I share, it’s that our families are number one. We try to keep up the conversation but after a while, I could hear him fail to suppress a yawn.

 

“You should go to sleep now, Scott. We’ll talk more tomorrow when you’ve had sleep.” I say.

 

“Good night, Tess.”, he says sleepily. “And hey, thanks for taking my call. It’s been great to hear your voice.”

 

“Sweet dreams, Scott.”, I reply.

 

* * *

 

It’s too early to message Scott by the time I get to the airport. We’d ended up talking about midnight and I’m pretty sure that he’s still asleep given how exhausted he sounded by the time we said goodnight. So I avoid messaging him in case the notification wakes him up.

 

I’m nursing my coffee at the departure lounge waiting for the 7:30 am boarding call when my phone pings.

 

            _Scott Moir_

_Safe travels, Tess._

_Tessa Virtue_

_Hey. I thought you’d still be asleep. I avoided messaging you because I didn’t want to wake you up._

_Scott Moir_

_Jet lag is kicking my ass. And the kids are early risers so it was bedlam outside my door about thirty minutes ago. I’ve just kicked them all out so I could catch a couple more hours of sleep. Anyway, I just wanted to check in with you and wish you a safe flight._

_Tessa Virtue_

_You are too sweet. Go back to bed, Moir._

_Scott Moir_

_Yes ma’am._

 

I chuckle at his reply. I’m in such deep trouble. Even sick and jetlagged, Scott Moir is as charming as ever.

 

As soon as my flight lands in Montreal, it’s non-stop action for me. I take a taxi immediately to the Fairmont. I check in and walk the one kilometer distance to the Place des Arts where we will be performing for the next week. We check out the stage and rehearse our blocking before breaking for lunch. I’d had a sandwich during the morning run through though so I’m not really hungry by noon break. We aren’t required to be back for rehearsals until three though and I wanted a place where I could hang out that’s not my hotel room. So I call the one guy who I know would be able to suggest where to go.

 

“Hey, Scott. I hope I didn’t wake you up”, I say as soon as he picks up.

 

“Tess! No no. I’ve been up for a while now just puttering around at home. You can call me anytime. So what’s up? I thought you’re in rehearsals today.”, he replies.

 

“We have a three-hour break until we’re back this afternoon. I was hoping I could get recommendations on a good coffee shop to hang out in.”

 

He pauses before he replies, “Campanelli’s my favorite. But it’s probably a little too far from you. I’m assuming that you’re at Place des Arts, right?”

 

“Yup”, I confirm.

 

“I’d suggest Café Lali then. It’s very… you.”

 

I laugh at his reply. “What does that even mean, it’s very me?”

 

“Just go. You’ll see what I mean.”, he says confidently.

 

Trusting his recommendation, I catch a short cab ride to Café Lali and as soon as I enter, I smile. It is in fact, very me. I love it. I don’t know how, but in the space of the one week that Scott and I have been talking to each other, we’ve somehow gotten to know each other so well.

 

I order a coffee and indulge myself with a donut. I grab myself a seat near one of the large windows and settle in. I snap a photo of my coffee along with the background and then send it to him.

 

            _Tessa Virtue_

_You’re right. This place is very me. Thanks for the recommendation._

_Scott Moir_

_I thought it would be. They actually sell the art they have on display too._

_Tessa Virtue_

_Got any more recommendations? For dinner perhaps?_

_Scott Moir_

_Easy. You’d love Foxy. Totally your vibe. It’s a favorite of mine as well._

 

That night, as I hang out with the other dancers at Foxy, I marvel at how good a read Scott has on me. Nailed it again with recommending a place I’d enjoy.

 

The rest of the week goes by like this. We’d either call each other or exchange messages for him to suggest places that I should go whenever I had free time. Granted, I don’t have much with all the rehearsals and performances. But all of the places he’s suggested that I go to have all been on point.  

 

He’s still back home in London relaxing and spending time with family and friends. Every now and again he would send me photos of him hanging out with his nieces and nephews, playing hockey or at a pub with his friends. He tells me his family has started to notice that he’s constantly distracted by his phone. He confesses that he’s only told his cousin, Cara, so far that we have reconnected and that it’s me that he’s talking to. He justifies it by saying that if anyone else in his family knows, they’ll just keep bugging him about it. I tell him I understand. Only Jordan knows so far that we’re talking and I’ve been getting almost daily phone calls from her wanting updates about him.

 

Also, we still haven’t really talked about what this is anyway. Far as I know, we’re friends who like to flirt with each other over the phone. I mean realistically there’s no way this can develop into anything more than the playful friendship we have now. We live in two different cities. He’s going to start touring in a month’s time. And my schedule is no better. We still don’t even know if we’re going to actually see each other. What we continue to do though and in abundance, is talk.

 

We’re on our what has now become our nightly phone call a week into my stay in Montreal when he tells me the good news. He and Kaitlyn have been booked for one whole day of media appearances in Toronto on March 14. This means that we finally have the chance to see each other. Just over a week away. I yelp in joy when he tells me over the phone.

 

“Seriously??” I say, breathless from the excitement of his news.

 

“Yup.”

 

“When do you get here?”, I ask before realizing I’m not in Toronto but Montreal. “There I mean, to Toronto”, I say amending my question.

 

“The media day is scheduled on the 14th. But Kaitlyn has told me she’s scheduled our rehearsals for Stars on Ice before that so we probably won’t be able to fly in until the 13th. Here’s the thing, and I’m so sorry. I’m only there for the day. It has to be back to Montreal on the 15th right away for an interview with Tout Le Monde Parle.”, he replies.

 

“So just one day.”, I say, a little bit deflated at the news of the short window of time we actually have.

 

“I know.”, he sighs. “Trust me, I tried to work around the schedule too. But Kaitlyn was adamant that we can’t move the rehearsals.”

 

“We still do have the one day, I guess.”, I reply.

 

“As soon as I’m done with the interviews, I am all yours.”

 

I smile at the inflection in his voice when he says “all yours”. I don’t know that he is in fact that, all mine. But I am certainly not opposed to the idea. Not at all.

 

I’m about to reply when I hear a tiny voice shouting from his end.

 

“Dad! Uncle Scottie’s on the phone with his girlfriend again!”

 

“Char…. Shhh.”, I hear Scott say. Muffled sounds then come through the phone. Despite my disappointment at the news about his very short trip to Toronto, I start laughing. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Scott these past couple of weeks, it’s that his nephews and nieces have him wrapped around their little fingers. He is determined to be cool Uncle Scottie and they all know what buttons to push to get him to do their bidding. I can’t blame him though. He’s sent me many photos of them and they are all absolutely adorable. I doubt I’d be able to say no to any of them if I ever see them face to face. He comes back on the line a minute later.

 

“Sorry about that. My little niece decided today is a good day to be a tattle tale. I had to run her down and bribe her with candy so she won’t tell the rest of the family that I’ve been on the phone”, he says ruefully. “Anyway, she was dispatched to find me because I’m being called down for family game night. Apparently, my absence has become a little glaring.”

 

“Scott! I didn’t know you were skipping out on family time to take my call. I would’ve called later.”, I say. Now I’m mortified that I’ve been monopolizing what precious time he has with his family.

 

“Trust me. One week of being together all the time has taken its toll on me.”, he replies.

 

“Still. Go be with your family. We’ll talk tomorrow.”, I say.

 

 

* * *

 

I’m back to Toronto again just as Scott flies to Montreal. Since we have his media day to look forward to, we are able to laugh at the fact that we barely missed each other, our flights actually putting us at Montreal airport at around the same time. Unfortunately, I was already past security by the time his flight landed so there was no way we could even say hi in person.

 

The next week passes by quickly. I settle back into my routine and home. Rehearsals and classes. But I’m also planning for how to spend the one day I have with Scott in Toronto. Based on what we’ve figured out, he should be done with studio time by two in the afternoon. He made sure that there were no other bookings for the rest of the day so until their flight back home, he’s free.

 

It’s Thursday morning I’m walking by rehearsal studios in the theatre when I hear a voice coming from one of the studios.

 

“Tessa!”, calls a man’s voice.

 

I immediately know that the French accented voice belongs to none other than Guillaume Cote. I steel myself and order my brain to stop fangirling and step into the studio. There, I find Guillame and Heather.

 

“Hi, Guillame. Hi Heather”, I say as I exchange cheek kisses with them.

 

“I need a big favor.”, Heather says, gently taking my hand.

 

“What is it?”, I reply.

 

“I’m choreographing this _pas de deux_ for some friends of Heather and she was supposed to be helping me out. But she accidentally double booked herself with helping out at the kids’ school this weekend so I’m in need of a partner. Please tell me you’re not busy.”, Guillaume says.

 

“The piece is already complete but Guillaume needs someone to help him flesh out the woman’s parts of the choreography and to partner with to teach it to my friends. Can you do it? The choreography is quite simple. If you have a couple hours today you’d easily pick it up. Our friends are coming in this weekend we might need your Friday, Saturday and Sunday morning. Please?”, Heather continues.

 

Here’s the thing, Heather and Guillaume have always been so nice to me since I join the _corps_ and have been very supportive in my efforts to rise up the ranks until I became a principal. They were mentors and great friends to me and so denying the request was out of the question. Besides, the fact is, I haven’t really scheduled anything for the weekend. I’d just planned on veging out and treating myself to maybe a spa day in anticipation for Scott’s arrival next Monday. What’s a couple of hours during the weekend break to help my mentors out.

 

“Sure.” I say. “Just give me the details of when and where.”

 

She smiles and claps her hands. She thanks me profusely and kisses me again on both cheeks as she bids me goodbye. It’s a good thing I haven’t changed out of my dance clothes yet so I’m able to go straight into the choreography with Guillaume.

 

Heather was right. The piece isn’t very complicated. Nonetheless, it’s beautiful and I find myself loving the contemporary piece with some ballet elements in it. Guillaume is a genius though so I’m not surprised at the exquisite choreography of a man and a woman fighting the growing attraction between them. The music is “Trouble I’m In” by a band called Twinbed. Even the song has captivated by imagination and I start humming it to myself by the time I get home.

 

The next day, I arrive at the dance studio in downtown Toronto which Guillame had booked for the session. Guillame is already in the room by the time I arrive. I drop my bag on the floor and pin my hair up. I wasn’t able to make any effort to look good today because I accidentally slept in. So I’m just in leggings and a baggy shirt rather than any proper dance attire. But I figure it’s just Guillaume’s friends so they probably won’t judge.

 

I’m stretching when I hear Guillaume welcoming some people near the door. I turn around and my jaw drops.

 

“Scott!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for comments and kudos. I'm on @infitsofpassionweshame on tumblr and @infitsofpassion on twitter if you want to shout at me while I'm away.


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